


Gumdrops and Cherrybombs

by AllumetteRouge (RedRaidingHood)



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Ableist Language, Minor Character Death, Multi, Pre-New 52, Pre-Relationship, and ceara-banana (tumblr), whodunit, with art by lexiconallie (tumblr)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-04-26 01:46:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4985248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRaidingHood/pseuds/AllumetteRouge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young intern is found dead at Wayne Enterprises and Tim sets out to solve the crime like the good little detective he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rage quitting is a habit hard to break

**Author's Note:**

> I always wanted to try my hand at a crime story, so yes, this here is my first attempt. The story is already written, so I should update regularly.  
> Hope you'll enjoy reading and feel free to comment and/or criticize!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Alex](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexicon) is a wonderful friend and she drew me a cover for this story! I love it <333

Tim let his head rest on his hand, looking the young intern over. Angelia Rhodes was kind of cool, he admitted. A good few years older then him, but who wasn’t in this company. Putting a gloved hand on her hip, she looked at him. When asked why she always wore gloves, Angelina told him an outrageous story about her jealous boyfriend and her lab partner in high school. Now, her red lips were pulled into a tight smile while she was waiting for Tam to push their work to the side and make room for the tray she was holding.

“You realize if I give you the job, I’ll look like I wanna rejuvenate the company, right?”

Angelina blinked, for a moment, confusion was written on her face, but that was instantly erased with anger. “That an excuse for not hiring me?”

Tim _liked_ her. She reminded him a lot of Star, the girl who’d taught him not to fall off a skateboard every two seconds in his Brentwood days.

Tam shook her head. “What your _boss_ wants to say is ‘Thanks for the coffee, Miss Rhodes.’”

“Also,” Tim chided in when Angelina sat down with them at the table. “I have to report to a bunch of older men who think the only thing worse than having a minor owning this company is women in any kind of position of power.” He took a sip from his coffee, smiling a little when Tam did the same, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the bitter taste. Angelina made _good_ coffee. Real good coffee, but she also did have that little suck-up streak that meant she made it so _he_ liked it.

That was the actual problem he himself saw in hiring her after her internship was over. He liked her. She did good work and she was well liked, but it was no secret that she did a some things specially in an attempt to curry favor with him.

“So, are we going to do that joint venture with LexCorp?”

“ _That,_ ” Tim said, setting his cup down. “Is need to know only.”

“How are you getting along with Mr Rasmussen?” The change of topic was obvious, but so was Tam’s glare. It was one thing being able to sit down with their superiors, another to get chummy with them. Tam made no pretense of being friends with Angelina and that was just fine. Hiding a fond smile behind his cup, Tim softly shoved Tam’s knee with his, letting her know he was backing her up on this one.

Kai Rasmussen was the other intern that had applied for the job offer last week. He was a nice guy, tanned from working in his garden a lot and sporting a ridiculous pencil mustache. Being closer to forty than to thirty also meant he was more settled than Angelina and his work tended to be a bit more reliable. He’d also only asked whether they’d see each other at the temple once.

“We’re good,” Angelina lied. Kai and her couldn’t really stand each other. They were competing hard, but neither of them was mean enough to badmouth the other behind their back. That this honest fight made the decision of who to hire a bit more fun, was something Tim meant to think about later. Once he’d have time for anything other than this annoying proposal LexCorp had made. Interestingly enough, both the interns had expressed their opinion on that matter. Not that they’d been asked, or that Tim particularly cared about their views; it was just another thing were those two didn’t see eye-to-eye.

“Mr Wayne?” Speak of the devil. They turned, Angelina glaring at her competitor. Kai held a file in front of Tim’s face, his hands shaking a little. Rolling his eyes, Tim leaned back, taking the papers from his intern. “What’s that?”

“It’s the report I did for you. On that fertilizer project?”

“Ah, yes.” Tim knew his pokerface was good. Knew Tam couldn’t see through him like that, but he still felt her amused glare at the back of his head. Maybe shoving his own work on the intern was a typical Brucie-move, but that was kinda what interns were for, right? Running numbers when their bosses were to lazy to do it themselves.

“Great, can you mail that to me? Also, while I’m thinking about it, can you do the same for the Mother's Project and the deal with Toronto? Only with a 40% rise for the latter?"

“Uhm, ah. Maybe I should write that down,” Kai scratched the back of his head apologetically. “You don’t have a pen by any chance?”

Tim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Here he was sitting with Tam, working through print-outs with a variety of pens, textmarkers and sticky-notes and he’s still asked if he’d have a pen. By any chance. No, those are all empty. Tam and him use them to built little towers and pretend to sword-fight. “Here you go,” he said instead, handing Kai the pen he’d been using.

The man quickly wrote his instructions down, almost running into Randy Giles on his way to the office.

“Randy,” Angelina said in way of greeting. She pulled out a chair for him, smiling. Tim knew that smile from Dick, and he wasn’t really surprised to see it on her face every time she saw her best friend’s husband. Angelina and Marcie Giles had been raised by the same couple and both, Randy and Marcie had vouched for her when Angelina had applied for the internship. It was a strange patchwork family that reminded Tim of his own.

Tam collected the papers and put them back into their files. Working wouldn’t be possible anymore like that and she’d given in to the fact that they had, indeed, lunch break. Tim hid his snicker behind a hand though, her irritation radiating off her. He hoped none of the interns would need anything from her in the near future. Or at least, that he’d be present if they were. It was always fun to watch her scold someone beside him. She’d get over her anger, Lucius had said. And not that Tim doubted his fatherly insights, but he also doubted Tam would let that go any time soon. Not when she could use it to rightfully let her anger out on him.

“You two are coming, right?” Randy asked, his broad British accent snapping Tim out of his thoughts.

“Marcie’s going-away party?” Tam looked up from the files with a sudden interest. Babies, Tim had noticed, seemed to catch Tam’s interest a lot easier than cats. Which was strange, but it was always good to know not to send her videos of cats but rather opt for babies.

Marcie Giles was taking a baby-year or two, and while her stomach didn’t show yet, she’d chosen to use her remaining vacation days to get off work a lot sooner. The party had been Angelina’s idea, as had been inviting Tim - and Tam. Still, they had gotten the suspicion Tam had only been invited so it wouldn’t look too strange for Angelina to ask her boss to a private party.

“I don’t think so.” Tam pursed her lips.

“Just think about it, okay?” Angelina looked at Tim, smiling and leaning a bit over the table.

Randy gave him a sympathetic smile. He and Tim had worked together at a few projects already and he had been pretty decent most of the time. Other times though, he was a sexist bigot who Tim would love to introduce to either Batgirl or Robin. Or both of them together, Tim wasn’t biased either way.

 

The LexCorp venture wasn’t the only thing Tim had to work through that day, but Angelina mentioning it at lunch definitely came back to bite him a few times later. Worst had been Kai subtly trying to ask about it himself, and Angelina starting a discussion that got out of hand while there was no Tam around to save him.

He was knackered. All he wanted was a hot shower and a few hours of sleep before patrol; so when the door was opened for him, his key hardly in the lock, he really wasn’t in the mood for Jason.

“You didn’t pick up my stuff, did you?”

Yeah, well he forgot, but all Jason had to do was go to the manor himself. Hell, if he gave Alfred an address, the old man would gladly deliver whatever Jason had asked for this time. Probably food.

Shrugging off his coat, Tim brushed past him. Food was actually a good idea. He threw his backpack and coat on the couch, crossing the living room to get to the kitchen, with Jason snarling at his heels.

“Don’t tell me. You were too busy. Didn’t have time for my laptop either.”

“Your laptop?”

Jason leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “You don’t even _remember_? Shit, kid. You got Alzheimer’s or what?”

Jason’s laptop, right. Tim bit his thumb. He’d meant to have a look at it some time last week. Had even looked forward to snooping a little through Jason’s music folder and internet history, but. It still sat on the shelf he’d put it on. Damn it.

Tim turned his back to Jason, rifling through the pantry. He could see the disappointment in the man’s posture, the small slouch in his shoulders.

“Look,” Jason said. “If you don’t want to repair that stupid thing, that’s fine. But if you just don’t do it to give me an excuse to invade your place, get to work.” He walked over to the cabinets, pulled out two glasses and set them on the counter. Knowing the kitchen almost better than Tim by now, he located the soda without problems. “I don’t need an excuse to freeload off your rich ass.”

Tim watched the man pour them drinks. It wasn’t like he hadn’t realized his home slowly being invaded by the other vigilante. In fact, Tim had thought about giving him a key. - Not that he’d ever go through with that. Jason would probably laugh at the mere idea. For all Tim knew, those visits were still meant to annoy him.

Tim took his glass. Jason might have been annoying, but he also made it easier to reach the top shelves.

“Whatever,” he said, leaving his uninvited guest to himself.

When he bought the couch, he had looked for the most comfortable one that came with washable cushions. Just in case of bleeding on it after patrol, not fajita and Zesti. He was reasonably sure there were more stains from blood though. Probably. Possibly.

“So what crawled up your ass today, darling?”

The cushions moved under Jason’s weight, titling both of them toward the middle. Tim ignored the arm behind him on the back of the couch since it totally wasn’t worth talking about. At all.

“My ass is none of your business.”

“Yeah, right,” Jason took a sip of his soda. “So I take it you’re going to wake me later by screaming at some freakish paladin again?”

Tim bit the rim of his glass beofre taking a sip. It wasn’t like he had wanted to wake Jason, but that lvl 85 paladin had so obviously cheated, like... It hadn’t even been funny anymore. He’d rage quit, and Ives had totally laughed at him for throwing his headset across the room. “No,” he said, slumping in his seat and still ignoring the warm body next to his. “I’m not gonna play Warcraft before patrol. I’d let you take your guns if I did and we both know _that_ won’t end pretty.”

Jason cackled. He honest to heck cackled, his hand squeezing Tim’s shoulder before he stood. “Who says I’m not taking them anyway, bird boy?”

Jason’s laptop had been _interesting_ at least. Not like he’d gotten much blackmail out of it - Jason wasn’t _that_ stupid - But even so, it kept Tim up after patrol for too long. He overslept and only woke from Lucius’ call. Which had him awake without even a single drop of coffee.

Tim slammed the car door shut, blazer haphazardly thrown over his arm and suspenders still hanging around his knees. The crowd was already as bad as he’d anticipated. WE employees not allowed into the building, reporters flitting about like the vultures they were, and, of course, Gotham’s gawkers.

On good days, Tim thought Gothamites had adapted to the ever present danger. On bad ones, he knew they were just this stupid and jaded.

_Collateral damage_ as Jason called them on pit days. Weeks. Whatever.

“Mr Wayne, care for a statement?” Vicki Vale’s smile was only slightly sympathetic. She mightn’t blow their secret on the front page, but she still wanted her name under those big letters.

“Miss Vale, as far as I can tell, you and I might still have the same questions.” He pulled the suspenders up to his shoulders, not snapping them. He wasn’t _Brucie_.

Her eyes seemed to smile smugly, taking in his disheveled appearance. She leaned in a bit closer, pulling out her phone and pretending to read a message. “Rough night?”

“Only if you’d call _Conficker_ and a six-pack of Zesti a rough night.”

Vicki frowned. “The computer virus?”

“It’s a worm,” he grinned at her. If she’d wanted a story about how Red Robin busted a drug deal or something, she was asking the wrong questions.

He pushed past her to the front. Police were milling about, WE’s gates cordoned off.

“Excuse me,” he told the closest officer, only to repeat himself when the man couldn’t hear him over the noise of the crowd.

“Sir, please stand back. This investigation is still ongoing.”

Tim nodded and tried to appear as harmless as possible. “Look, that’s why I’m here.” The officer regarded him. He was just doing his job, just making sure no one entered the building. “I need to speak to whoever is in charge.”

“I don’t think so.”

And because they could take Robin from him, but not out of his mindset, he held his hands up, smiling boyishly. “I’m going to reach into my pocket now, okay? Just getting out my ID to prove this is, in fact, my company.”

“We know who you are, Mr Wayne,” another man replied gruffly. He was big, dark skinned and heavy set. But not as big as Bruce, and Tim had lots of practice not to look up to people bigger than him like a child. “Your money still won’t get you behind this thing.” The man gestured to the tape closing off WE’s entrance doors.

“It’s Angelina, Mr Wayne.” Tim and the police looked up. Marcie Giles was hugging herself, her usual olive skin pale and tear-stained. Angelina and her had been raised as sisters, Tim remembered; they had been close since childhood.

“Mrs Giles,” the policeman said. “I get you’re sad and all that stuff, but take your emotions and put them behind my line here. No one crosses this line but me and my men until this is over.”

Tim rolled his eyes. The guy was as sensitive as a stone. “This way, Marcie.” He put a hand on her shoulder, pushing her to the back of the crowd. He’d wanted to get to the crime scene, but with the police still crowding that place, that was a no-go anyway.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Wayne,” Marcie sniffed. She wiped her nose on her blazer, for once not caring about the expensive clothing. “It’s just, you know, _it’s_ _Angelina_.”

And yeah, Tim did know. Better than Marcie could ever know, and way better than he ever wanted to know himself. “What happened? What’s wrong with her?”

Marcie bit her lip. The people around them were still shoving to the police line, eager for a scandal or gruesome news. “She didn’t come home last night. And... I got worried.”

“Is it that unusual for her to go out after work?” Angelina was not much older than Tim, not as old as Dick yet, and Tim knew for a fact his big brother still went out at night sometimes as Dick Grayson instead of Nightwing.

“No. Yes,” Marcie stuttered. “Not since, you know, the baby.”

“The baby? Your baby?”

She nodded. “Since the start of our pregnancy, she’s been staying at home with me. We were taking care of... of the preparations, the room and clothes and - and each other.” Hugging herself tighter, Marcie started to sob. For a moment, Tim wanted to look around, search for Randy, her husband, but he stopped that urge. He still needed answers.

“So what is going on here? Angelina didn’t come home and then?”

“I don’t know,” she whined. “I wasn’t there! If only I had been there, she wouldn’t be dead, she would still... Oh God, it’s all my fault!”

Tim squeezed her shoulder, not knowing what else to do. So Angelina was gone. Probably never came home from work because she was killed some time yesterday. Here. At Wayne Enterprises - which would explain the police and Gotham’s most curious. Lucius hadn’t known much either at the phone, only that the police cordoned of the building and no one was to be let in.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he tried, his brain already racing with thoughts. Why would anyone kill Angelina? Was she even killed? He was going too fast here, this wasn’t what Bruce would do. All he knew was that apparently, Angelina was found at WE some time after she went missing last evening. That’s all. Maybe it had been a accident. Maybe suicide?

“Timothy, glad you could make it,” Lucius stepped to them, nodding at Marcie. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs Giles.”

She hiccuped and wiped her eyes again. It took a moment for Marcie to regain control, but when Tam put a hand on her arm, she smiled gratefully. “We’re sorry, Marcie,” she said and Tim. Tim would have loved to use that moment to vanish and try to get past the police line again, if it hadn’t been for Tam’s angry look.

“Thank you, Miss Fox. Mr Fox.” The woman sniffed and nodded a little. She seemed exhausted, the night worrying over her sister and then this morning... Tim didn’t blame her.

“Look, Marcie,” he said. “Take the day off. Don’t stay here. Hell, take the whole week off, just take your time, okay?”

“I- That would be okay?”

A quick glance towards Lucius confirmed his consent. Sure, Tim was the majority shareholder, but both of them knew it was really Lucius with all the power and knowledge. “Definitely,” Tim answered.

Marcie hugged Tam, tears still running down her face. The two women exchanged a few more words, Tam making sure she’d be okay and would call, probably.

Tim turned to her father. He could grieve for Angelina and Marcie later, now he needed to focus on the task at hand.

“So, um, you’ve already talked to the police?” Tim asked. Tam send him another scathing look, but Lucius just nodded.

“I did. The detective in question is Mr Farley over there.” He pointed towards the man that had denied Tim earlier. “He’s a good cop, a good man too.” Giving Tim a deliberate glance, Lucius crossed his arms. “While this is a tragedy, we have to pay attention to the media too. You realize the PR for Wayne Enterprises won’t be good and the stocks will fall.”

Tim cringed. Lucius had put his gameface on. Not that Tim minded, he just didn’t like to think of dealing with the media. Again. One year of crutches had been enough, please and thank you.

“So you’re saying it would be best if this case would be solved sooner rather than later?”

“With hopefully no more links to WE. Other than it being the place where the murder happened.”

Tim perked up. “So it’s a murder? That’s certain?” His cellphone vibrated in his pocket. Just a message. He could ignore that for now.

Lucius kept on talking, not having noticed the small sound. “From what Detective Farley said, yes.”

Tam joined them, her eyes still sparking with anger. “Really, Tim?” She shook her head, leaning towards him. “Marcie’s lost her sister and you push her away? Make her leave and go home alone?”

Would it be too much to groan and roll his eyes? Probably. So Tim only closed his eyes and counted to ten. It wasn’t so much that he _didn’t_ feel for Marcie - in fact, he could sympathize with her a lot. The times he’d thought he would never see Dick again, Bruce’s death. Bart. Conner. Dad. Oh, he _did_ know how Marcie felt, but he also knew that right now wasn’t the time. He needed to deal with this first. So yes, he’d sent the pregnant woman home. Where she could rest and didn’t need to stand in a crowd for hours. Where he would sent her husband the moment he got a hold of him.

Exhaling, he only looked at Tam. She blinked, her anger subsiding. “You’re planning something.” It was a statement, so really, he didn’t have to answer.

“Not ‘planning’ per se,” he still said. “But I might have some work tonight. Where did you say they found her?”

Lucius smiled. “I didn’t. It’s the intern’s office though. Probably. They had the whole floor cordoned off when I came here first.”

Tam crossed her arms, looking from her father to Tim. “Just, please. No ninjas, okay?”

“No ninjas if I can help it,” he promised, taking out his phone. Swiping over the screen, a message from Cass popped up.

_'Got food in your fridge?'_ Well, Cass didn’t actually count as a ninja, did she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com/) if you have time <3


	2. My alibi are those five guys I put in hospital last night

Tim set the pizza on the table, carelessly throwing his blazer on one of the kitchen chairs and falling into another. He pushed his hands in his hair. Angelina Rhodes, huh. She made great coffee.

“Okay, stop,” Tim told himself. This wasn’t helping; he had no time for this.

“I wasn’t going to.”

Tim jumped, his shoulders bunched up and body tensing. Cursing himself, he forced his muscles to loosen. After all those years, he still fell back into stupid reactions like that.

Cass watched him with her own brand of fondness before slipping fully through the window. “Everything okay?”

She moved the chair next to him, sitting on the table and putting her feet up. That way, she could watch him, and Tim knew she could see the lie when he nodded.

Cass took one of the cartons and sat it on her lap. For the moment, she was going to drop the subject, let him have this. Tim pulled his own pizza towards him, neither of them caring much for table manners. Stuffing the first slice in his mouth was a mistake though; while it felt great finally getting some food in his stomach, Cass was a sadist. Who liked seeing him choke on pizza.

“How’s Damian?”

Coughing, Tim only blinked at her. Tears were threatening to spill from his eyes and _that’s totally mean, stop laughing, Cassandra!_

“What?”

“Damian. How is he doing?” She repeated, as if she was innocence herself. Pulling the bacon of her slice and stuffing it in her mouth before shooting him an amused glance.

Tim shook his head, resigning himself to play along. “Ah, you know. Same old, same old.” He wasn’t lying, not really. Last time he’d seen the brat, Dick hadn’t even been there. And it still went kind of okay. Bruce had been proud. Of course, the man hadn’t said anything, but Tim knew. “In fact,” he kept talking. “He’s drawn me a picture. It’s really good, you wanna see?”

Cass’ eyes went wide. That, she hadn’t seen coming. Grinning a little over that tiny victory, Tim rewarded himself with another slice. “He suggested I’d hang it over my bed though.”

His friend kept watching him, her own pizza forgotten. “Did you?” she finally asked.

“What? Hang it over my bed?”

“Yes?”

Tim shrugged. “Would you like to wake up to a grotesquely accurate picture of your mutilated body?”

This went on for a bit until they decided to get a few hours of sleep before patrol - and Tim had plans for tonight. Plans he didn’t share with his friend when they suited up. It wasn’t like he couldn’t trust Cassandra; she’d proven herself to him more often than she’d ever need. If she were ever to pick up the mantle of the Bat, she’d have Tim’s vote, but not tonight. This was about Angelina. This was personal.

Black Bat perched on the edge of the roof, her eyes closed and a small smile playing on her lips. Unlike himself, she was born for this. Literally. “I want to see Leslie,” she said, not turning towards Tim.

Both of them were warming themselves up, getting used to the city before they started patrol. Leslie Thompkins. Tim had been irritated by her for faking Steph’s death. While the betrayal still hurt, Dr. Thompkins was a valuable asset for the Family as well as for Gotham. All in all, her clinic probably helped just as many people the Bats did and Tim wouldn’t deny her that. “Yeah, can’t hurt.” He wouldn’t let that chance to get rid of Cass for tonight pass either. “You do that, circle around the Sprang Bridge when you’re there already. I’ll take the southern route.”

Black Bat turned to watch him. He didn’t lie, not really; there was nothing his body language could tell her other than wanting to be alone. Cass knew him, but he also knew her. She would respect that.

“You know,” Cass said “She is helping. Many people and babies are safe because of her.” Maybe she wanted him to forgive Leslie, maybe she really wanted him to forgive Steph.

“If you’re talking about that new maternity clinic on fifth street, that was Bruce’s idea,” Tim said preparing his grapple. Teen pregnancies had never been unusual in Gotham - even less so in the city’s darker parts where Dr. Thompkins established her clinic - so really, it had been just a matter of time for Bruce to spend more money on that particular topic.

Cass stood on the edge, her arms outstretched, ready to jump. He couldn’t see the eyes behind her mask, couldn’t read body language like she did, but he knew her. She’d understood. She would leave him alone.

Nodding, Cass smiled, accepting his words for what they were. “Take care of yourself, Tim.” And with that, Black Bat was flying. Cass was great like that.

A short patrol was all he had planned for tonight - not too much risk of getting into something bigger, just get his presence known, then off to Wayne Enterprises. If he could keep to his schedule, he would have no problems getting to Angelina’s office. If Lucius was right. But he’d also have more than enough time to find the crime scene if he wasn’t.

Getting into Wayne Enterprises wasn’t difficult at all. Bruce had long since established many ways for the Bats to get into the buildings he owned all over the city. Pulling his glove back on, Tim watched the pane slide back, giving him access to his office from the balcony outside. A fingerprint was all that was needed to get inside, to not trigger the silent alarm though, he pushed his keycard through the device too.

The office seemed unperturbed, just like he’d left it yesterday. At least the police hadn’t deemed this place worthy of their attention.

Out of habit, Tim toggled to infrared, scanning the floor for any living creatures that might notice his entrance. He knew the cleaning personnel’s schedule of course, knew no one should be here, but if he’d learned one thing over the years working in Gotham, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Carefully, he made it to the office WE had given the three interns working on Tim’s floor. It wasn’t a big room really, just one computer for all three of them next to the door, a small coffee table and a couch by the panorama windows on the other side, and a shelf stretching along the wall on the right. Kai and Angelina had filled their third of the shelf with folders and trinkets, but Marcie’s part had already been cleaned off most of it by now.

Tim had seen this place not long ago, but now he needed to treat it as something new, something unknown. A crime scene.

He slipped past the police tape at the door, careful not to disturb it. The scene was cold and he didn’t have the police report yet, didn’t know what the first responders had seen or who had found Angelina. Not yet at least. Tim scanned the area, looking for anything, really. Lucius hadn't known what had happened in this office, but soon, Red Robin would. Stepping inside, he turned, taking the scene in. The couch was still in place, its feet not moved from their place; otherwise, Tim would have seen the dents in the carpet. Beside the door, the windows would have been the only way to enter the office.

A faint smell of coffee still hung in the air, two cups on the table. He leaned closer, not daring to move around just yet. Tim didn’t know what had been replaced or taken by the police. It was easy to see the stain of lipstick on one of the cups though. He switched his night vision off and pulled a flashlight from his belt. No matter how great Bruce’s tech was, colors were still tricky. In the small circle of light, the lipstick was red, a bright red easily like the one Angelina wore. The other cup was half-full, the dark liquid cold by now. A shame really.

Nightvision back on, Tim turned to the shelf, where he expected either nothing, or the signs of a fight - he would take either, really. Nothing had seemed out of place when he’d first stepped into the room, but it was hard to tell with the usual messiness compared to the blank spaces Marcie had left. The cleaning personnel was good too, not much dust to look for prints or removed objects. The police had still taken the time to examine it, dark smudges where they had taken finger prints.

Internally, Tim cursed his lenses. They were great to generally see at night, the resolution wonderful and helpful in a fight, but at a crime scene, the green sight just annoyed him. He would have loved to switch on the light, look at the room with his own two eyes, but that wasn’t such a smart idea. Not if he didn’t want the police back at the scene and on his ass in a minute.

“We really need to work on those residual light lenses, B,” he muttered, more to himself.

The shelf's usual clutter seemed to be in its place, and if it wasn’t, no one but Kai and Angelina would have been able to tell.

So the last place on Tim's list was the work desk which in itself was just as much a mess as the shelf had been. This time though, it was obvious there had been a fight. Or something more adult, but Tim wasn’t inclined to think of his interns as, well, doing something like that next to the computer. Not if there was a perfectly nice couch just a few steps away.

Files had been thrown on the floor, pens and markers strewn about and the keyboard hung off the desk by its cord. Whoever had had their hands on it might have pulled it with them in the fight. Or when the chair had been pushed back, tipped over on the floor where a dark stain filled the carpet. No chalkline for a corpse, just pictures and a tainted carpet.

_Interesting_. So the fight had taken place here at the computer, not back at the couch where the cups still sat with coffee and lipstick. Enough looking, time to interpret the shit out of this. Tim smiled. He loved this part. It was second nature to Bruce by now, but Tim still had some guilty fun actively thinking of scenarios, of what could have happened. As long as he didn’t favor either scenario without due evidence, there really was no harm in enjoying their work.

So maybe Angelina and whoever else had been there drank their coffee together after work. Angelina had moved to shut down the computer and an argument they were having escalated. If so, what had they discussed? There was no evidence the cups hadn’t been left there earlier the day either.

Flexing his hands, Tim took another look around the room. Nothing really remarkable. Just the work desk, the chair on the floor and the stain on the carpet. The only evidence at hand was the mess that marked a fight. A fight that ended fatal for Angelina.

There was another place Tim would have loved to search through, but the police had done their job and taken the computer. What they apparently hadn’t thought of was the network this computer had been linked in.

Casting a last look around the office, Tim gave each part of the room his attention again, making sure not to miss evidence. He stepped back, only to feel something give under his foot.

“Shit.” Tim quickly crouched down, looking for whatever he just broke. He didn’t need to switch off his night vision to recognize the cap. He’d lent the pen to Kai earlier when he’d sent him to run some numbers. He’d liberated Steph off this one. Her handwriting had been almost ineligible with that thing, so Tim had done everyone a favor by taking the pen without asking, really.

The cap was broken now, but he still scanned the room for the pen. Surely, the ink would dry out, but he had gotten attached to it, and for a second, he thought about searching. Then remembered not to contaminate the crime scene any more than the police already had. The cap was broken, the ink would be dry, there really wasn’t any need to look for that pen anymore.

Sighing, Tim stretched his legs. A quick trip to his office would tell him whatever his interns had been doing with their computer, another few minutes later, he would have the security tapes and--

\-- _“Hey kid, you online?”_ Tim raised an eyebrow, his hand coming up to touch the receiver in his ear. “Really? Did you hear someone get cheated out of their rightfully earned EXP again, Red Hood?”

_“Har har, very funny, birdboy.”_

“I am trying to please.” A short bout of static answered him, a familiar rushing sound that meant Jason was moving fast. “Anyway,” Tim kept going, sure the filters would broadcast his voice clearly. “What do you want? I’m kind of busy here and -- wait a second.”

Not waiting for Jason’s reply, Tim crouched down again. There should have been a clock on that desk. Angelina had brought this clock to the place, a horrible pink thing in the shape of a cloud. Jason would have loved it.

_“Seriously? Geez Louise, you know how to make a guy feel special.”_

“Shut up.” Careful not to disturb the mess of office supplies, Tim lowered himself to the floor. He could see the individual parts lying around in sharp contrast to the carpet from this perspective. If the clock was missing, it could have been the murder weapon, right? It was big enough to be used as a blunt object at least.

Shuffling around a little, Tim surveyed the floor, almost missing the dark object under the couch. Almost. “There you are.”

_“Please tell me you’re not shooting a porno. Cause that line would be so cliche, even for you.”_

“Imagine me rolling my eyes,” Tim shot back, a few quick moves getting him to the couch at the back of the room. “Also, what did I say about shutting up?” The watch was far enough under the furniture that Tim had to lie down, fidgeting and reaching until the tips of his fingers touched the device.

The police should have found it. But then, the mess was everywhere. Something else thrown across the room randomly wasn’t all that special. Finally getting hold of the clock, Tim slid back into a crouch, leaning against the upholstery. The stupid thing was broken, time stopped and Angelina had loved that clock. It was dumb and childish to be angry at a pink cloud, but Tim didn’t care. Even if there was no blood on it, even if it hadn’t killed Angelina, it should have... Should have what, really?

“Dammit.” Tim stood, the clock in hand. He shouldn’t be angry right now. Working angry never did well for him. Anger blurred reason and Tim should be above that by now. He needed to be reasonable for this.

_“Language.”_

“Oh, fuck off, Jason.” This was important. Angelina had been an employee, had been a nice person and Tim could have called her a friend. And Lucius had said this case needed to be solved soon. This was important for WE too, for PR and the stocks and the Wayne family and Bruce.

He ducked under the police tape, heading to his office when he heard Jason’s answering chuckle.

_“Wow, rude. Look, kid, I get it. You’re busy and I’m disrupting.”_ He sighed audibly through the comm. _“How about you find a backbone and just kill the connection.”_

Tim stopped mid-step. He didn’t want that. He knew he didn’t want that, he liked talking to Jason, even if that man was driving him crazy most of the time. He wanted Jason here, wanted to ask him about the the crime scene, wanted to tell him about Angelina and how brightly she had smiled when she told Tim she was getting to be an aunt. He wanted Jason around, wanted to see his reaction to the horrible, pink clock in his hand. A broken clock that had stopped at nine thirty-five and what was he doing taking that thing with him?

A sudden shiver went down his spine. He wasn’t thinking clearly, taking something from the crime scene without intending to. _God, get a grip, Tim._

Shutting the door behind him, he closed his eyes. Just for a moment; breathing like Bruce had taught him. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, Jay.”

He didn’t get a reply, but the noises told him he hadn’t cut the connection either. They were just not speaking, working silently parallel to each other.

Pushing himself off the door, Tim went to the computer on his desk. The WE network was constantly updated and monitored by the Batcomputer as well as the official employees. Tim could have gotten into it in his sleep. Finding the worm he’d deleted from Jason’s system just a few hours ago in the repelled malware of the intern’s PC got a chuckle out of him. One night working on Conficker was enough, please and thank you. The network’s defenses had done their job well and nothing else seemed to be out of the ordinary at first. A quick glance to the bottom of the screen to check the time told Tim he had been nearly an hour at WE already. Time to pick up speed a little.

There wasn’t much data the interns had worked on yesterday, not after work hours at least. A few opened programs, some documents and a curious e-mail. Kai had sent it with a file attached at nine fifty-seven. _Someone_ had sent an e-mail _from Kai’s account_ , Tim corrected himself. Which in all probability meant Kai himself though. The account was password secured and there was no real benefit from hacking an intern.

Tim opened the file, balking at the content at once. This was the Mother’s Project, the one used for funding the maternity clinics. Info on the whole thing, the numbers and estimates and even names and other personal data - stuff LexCorp wanted them to share. The very same stuff they would have to share if it came to the joint venture LexCorp was pressing for. The one Kai had been pressing for. But why would he--

\-- no, not why. Why wasn’t important right now. Tim would share that titbit of corporate espionage with Lucius soon enough, but now he was looking to help Angelina. Angelina who had found out about this. Who had confronted Kai about the e-mail and had been against the joint venture ever since she’d heard of it.

Tim leaned back in his chair. So, Kai Rasmussen. He did have a motive, and the chance, too, what with sharing the office and the computer with Angelina.

Jason cursed, a quick staccato of gunshots rung in Tim’s ears. Whatever trouble the Red Hood had been looking for, he’d found it. If this was over, maybe Jason would listen to him, help him get this case in order a bit more. Another gunshot. Then silence.

_“Shit. This didn’t go as planned. -- Hey, kid, you still there?”_

 

Waking up to Jason snoring in his hair hadn’t been all that bad. Neither was Tim being saved from having to explain himself about drooling like a little kid by the doorbell. The doorbell ringing itself was the one bad thing that ruined Tim’s whole day.

Even this early in the morning, the police station was bustling. The shifts were changing just as he followed the officer through the doors. Tim put on a pleasant smile and nodded to a few policemen he knew. With Jason almost jumping out of the window on sight, placating officers and appearing docile was the best he could think of - short of outright shouting _'Yes, I lead a suspicious nightlife, get over it!'_

The policeman showed him to a row of chairs by the reception, asking him to wait for the detective in charge. In the commotion earlier, Tim had had just enough time to throw on some random clothes and he was sure the shirt he was wearing was actually Jason’s. It still smelled like him, like smoke and cordite and chai.

So this was his morning. Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, taken into police custody as a suspect for murdering Angelina Rhodes. He hadn’t even have time for a cup of coffee and the stuff from the vending machine across the room smelled like burned beans and dishwasher.

He let himself fall into one of the chairs that wasn’t occupied, crossing his arms over his chest. Slouching wasn’t very _Wayne_ , but he felt pretty _Drake_ right now anyway. Goddammit.

The waiting area was filled with the damp smell of Gotham’s night, the people in it either fresh from the street or waiting here since Tim had left for patrol. Who knows. The man beside him was snoring, stinking of vomit and cheap aftershave. Checking his hands out of habit, Tim noticed the scars. Tiny white lines that spoke of defense; broken knuckles of an untrained punch; reluctance to move, low pain tolerance. He sighed, deliberately closing his eyes. Another victim he hadn’t been good enough to safe. Another person he could have helped if this wasn’t Gotham. If he could be everywhere at once.

“Good morning, Mr Wayne. You’re here for the Rhodes' case too?” High-heels and thick, fruity perfume. Also, a voice Tim would recognize at a Marilyn Manson concert.

“Good morning, Miss Vale,” he said, opening his eyes and sitting up straight.

“He’s here for _questioning_ ,” Detective Farley’s voice boomed over Tim’s answer, and _that_ had him cringe. Lucius so wouldn’t like this. Vicki was already perking up, probably memorizing every detail and creating a draft in her head for today’s front page.

Detective Farley’s impressive stature filled the door to a room not far from the waiting area; the receptionist giving him a glare for shouting. So Farley was going to play bad cop from the start. Well, two could play that game. Tim stood, giving himself some of Cass’ grace and aplomb. “Good morning to you too, detective.” Vicki seemed almost surprised when he put out his hand for her to shake. He couldn’t blame her. Going from slouching teenager in yesterday’s clothes to suave businessman in yesterday’s clothes sometimes even gave himself whiplash. “Excuse me, Miss Vale. As nice as a chat with you would be, it seems Detective Farley here needs my help with keeping an indoor voice a bit more.”

She would definitely write that down the minute the door closed behind them, but for now, Vicki just shook his hand and smiled like she knew exactly how deep a grave he’d just dug himself.

The room Farley brought him in was little more than a closet, if Tim was being generous. A second detective turned in her chair, pushing her files together at the table haphazardly and smiled at him. There were only three chairs and of course, Farley motioned for Tim to sit in most uncomfortable one. He rounded the table to sit, taking in the tiny room while Farley closed the door. From experience, Tim knew it would be soundproof. The mirror to his left, one-way. The cramped atmosphere, the table and the detectives around him making him feel trapped. Tim knew this. They had a room just like this in the Batcave. But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t work.

The detective at the table kept smiling, her eyes on the files again. “So you’re the famous Mr Wayne? I have a daughter about your age,” she said.

Farley sat down in his chair, sprawling and taking space up. So it began. Turning his own smile to the detective, Tim played along. “How old is your daughter, detective...?”

“Kruger. And she’s nineteen. She’s fawning over this new video game, this World of Witchcraft or... What was it again?”

“Warcraft. And it’s not all that new anymore.” Kruger looked surprised. “It isn’t? I thought it just came out like last month?”

Tim leaned back in his chair, his hands fumbling about a little. Adults like Kruger who still lived behind the moon when it came to technology and video games weren’t rare on the force. “No, it’s. An expansion set. That’s the new thing that she’s probably talking about.” Kruger only blinked at him, so he kept going. “It’s like... a new adventure added to an already existing game. Have we established the good cop/bad cop thing now?”

Kruger pouted, almost taken aback, but Farley shifted in his chair, leaning a bit closer to Tim. “If you want to start so badly, Mr. Wayne, tell us about Miss Rhodes.”

“Angelina was an employee, as you know. She was nice. Made good coffee. We weren’t close if that’s what you want to hear.”

“We want to hear what you think,” Kruger said. “Describe her to us.”

“Look, we weren’t--”

“-- Describe her,” Farley interrupted, his voice booming in the tiny, soundproof room. Tim crossed his arms. This was ridiculous. They were really trying too hard with the good cop/bad cop routine. Hell, Steph and Damian worked their interrogations better.

“Angelina was nice, okay? Popular with the secretaries but always ten minutes late. The higher-ups didn’t like her because her clothes were too casual for our dress-code.”

The detective nodded, writing something down. “But you did? You liked her?”

“She was trying.” It was the truth. Angelina had never liked conforming to society’s rules, but she had tried. “She wore this shawl all the time, trying to hide the tattoo on her neck because apparently, tattoos are ‘unprofessional’” Tim raised his hand to make actual airquotes.

“So you did like her.”

He huffed, not appreciating having to turn his head back to Farley. “Yes.”

“You felt betrayed when you found out she was selling information to your competitor.”

“What? No, I--”

Farley stood, the chair banging against the wall behind him. A quick step and he was towering over Tim, right in his personal space. “It hurt that she would do that to you. Go behind your back like this.”

“No! Angelina wasn’t selling--” It was Kai. Hadn’t they checked the owner of the account? Hadn’t they seen the e-mail he’d sent after work?

Kruger tapped her pen on the table, her soft voice almost too loud in the room. “Was it your child?”

“What child?” He needed to calm down. This was crazy, those detectives were working him with practiced ease. He was floundering; he couldn’t let them take him apart like this.

Farley put his hand on Tim’s chair, crowding him even more. “Miss Rhodes was pregnant. Was it yours?”

Tim bit his lip. “You’re confusing yourself, detective. Angelina wasn’t pregnant, her sister Marcie--”

“Yes, she was.” Kruger still kept her calm and in that moment, Tim hated her for that. He wasn’t usually this bad at interrogations, but this whole thing was ridiculous. Angelina shouldn’t be dead and he shouldn’t be here, he should be out there, working to catch her murderer. It made him angry. Bruce always told him not to fight angry.

“Did you kill her because the betrayal hurt? Even more so since she was the mother of your child?”

“Angelina wasn’t pregnant, Marcie is,” he insisted. Tim wanted to get out, wanted Farley to _move_ , dammit, and their tactics worked. Fucking hell, they worked and he hated himself for that. He was trained better.

“Or maybe it wasn’t yours?” Farley smiled, his dark eyes fixed on Tim.

He stared back, not looking anywhere but at the detective. Keeping his voice even, the bubbling anger in his chest down, he replied. “Marcie and Randy Giles get the child. Not Angelina.”

Kruger let them stare at each other for a minute, only interrupting when Farley looked and nodded at her. “Is this your pen, Mr Wayne?”

She had produced a plastic bag from her folder, pushing it over the table towards Tim. It was the pen he had looked for tonight. The one Steph hadn’t even missed when he had taken it from her.

“Yes,” he admitted. This was good. This was the perfect time to drop the name those detectives should _really_ be looking into. “I lent it to Kai Rasmussen earlier that day. Haven’t seen it since.”

The detective shoved the plastic bag to the side, smiling at him again like he’d done something good. “Where were you when she was killed?”

Tim huffed, glad to be given an excuse to turn and shift away from Farley. He kept his arms crossed, but leaned toward her. “In front of the TV. Like probably half the city at prime time.”

“Prime time'? So between 8 and 11pm? Thank you for the time of her death, Mr Wayne,” she grinned, leaning back in her chair with an air of superiority. Tim tensed up. She was playing him.

“Oh, come on. I just figured it happened after work.”

“Uh-huh, right.” She kept grinning at him until a knock at the door broke the thick silence. A officer in uniform opened it, bending down to whisper in Kruger’s ear.

This was enough, really. Tim had to stop this here and now, if it wasn’t too late already. He turned back to Farley, this time not bothering to cover his anger. “I want my lawyer.”

“That’s your right, son,” the detective replied amicably. He exchanged a look with his partner, giving Tim a smug smile. “You can go for now, Mr Wayne. Just don’t skip town, alright?”

“I- You can’t pin this on me.”

“You have a motive, no alibi and your pen is the murder weapon,” Farley stated calmly. “I think we can.”

Tim stood, the words chocking in his throat. “I--”

“Goodbye, Mr Wayne,” Farley said, rounding the table and leaving after Kruger. Tim wanted to say more, to explain himself, explain that they were _wrong_ , but he gulped it down, tensely closing the door behind him.

Outside, Alfred was waiting for him and Tim could have cried right then and there. He should have pleaded the fifth. Kept his mouth shut. Ask for his lawyer. Just like Bruce taught him. So stupid. Stupidstupidstupid.

“Master Jason let us know you might be in need of, hum, more _legal_ assistance than he could provide.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” He hoped, wished, _prayed_ against all odds that Alfred had come alone, but the moment the valet opened the limousine door for him, he knew he had to face Bruce. Tim took a breath and climbed into the car where his partner was waiting for him. Batman. - No, _Bruce_. His resolve wavered. This wasn’t fair. How come everyone seemed to know how to push his buttons today?

“Are you alright?” Bruce asked when Tim sat down next to him on the soft leather. Bruce was big, bigger than Farley and more intimidating without trying on any day of the week. Still, Tim felt better, safer with him. Not crowded although they were closer than the detective had been.

“I’m fine.”

“Vicki Vale was there. We’re trying to buy her article.”

“Look,” Tim said, turning towards his friend. “Don’t worry. I have it under control. Your company won’t be involved. If they want to make this about me, I’ll keep it personal.”

Bruce watched him concerned, which was unnerving in itself. Bruce wasn’t _concerned_ , he was _Batman_ , he took care of things. “That is what I’m worried about,” he said. “You’re not on top of your game, Tim. You’re taking this too personal.”

Stubbornly refusing to face him, Tim squashed his cheek against the cold window. Bruce wasn’t his _dad_. “I can handle it.”

“I have no doubt that you can. Over the last year you made it perfectly clear that you are efficient on your own.”

Tim looked at the man. The man who had taken him in long before his father had died. The one who had made him his partner before other heroes were even taking him seriously. A year ago, when Tim had still felt bitter and raw, the hand on his shoulder might have felt like a brand.

“We’re still family, Tim.”

“I. I know,” he relented, the tension easing out of his body, “It’s just... Can I borrow your computer for a bit?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to comment and/or criticize, or drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com/) if you have time <3


	3. The donut run

The computer in the cave wasn’t much better than Tim’s own actually, but for some kind of reason, he didn’t want to be alone. So now he was idly sitting in front of the giant screens, using two of them to organize his case and watch the security tapes. He had found the tape that should have filmed the murder, but its angle only showed the door and a part of the shelf along the wall.

Cursing whoever had installed that camera, he noted every time Angelina was in the room with somebody else. If only he had installed those stupid things himself.

The office was frequented by quite a lot of people, so Tim fast-forwarded the tape to roughly after hours when she had last been seen. Angelina had left and come back with Randy and Marcie to get a few things out around nine o’clock. Just another box with Marcie’s trinkets and a few files. In the twenty minutes it took them, Tam had taken a quick look inside but left right after. Angelina had come back followed by the Giles' and Tam again. She had probably needed one of the interns or something. Maybe he should ask her tomorrow.

Tim stretched his arms over his head. If he had been there, if he hadn’t delegated this stuff to Tam, he might have been able to save Angelina. He pulled up the data of the Mother’s Project Kai had sent to LexCorp. It was the whole funding plan, addresses and names of sponsors and planned events. Nothing that would more than sting if it fell into their competitors hands. So what had been Kai’s motive here? Had he just tried to get Luthor’s attention or was there something hidden between those numbers Tim couldn’t see?

On the other screen, Tam left the office with Marcie in tow around nine twenty-five, talking avidly and laughing. Probably about babies. Tim smiled. Whatever image Tam wanted to maintain, babies totally ruined her badass attitude and exchanged it for a bright smile and so much warmth. Tim could see it, really. Tam would make a great mother one day. And the moment he got wind of her pregnancy, he would get his hands on a baby-ninja costume. Just because.

There, Randy left the office too, meaning Angelina would be alone now and the time when Kai would sent that e-mail to LexCorp was drawing near. Tim had slept through this. Had crashed with Cass on the couch after too much pizza and Zesti.

On the screen, Kai came through the door. The timer read nine forty-six. Tim couldn’t see what he was doing inside the office, but he could see the way the man looked around the hallway for witnesses. He actually walked in on his tiptoes, opening the door in a way that he probably thought of as stealthy. He stayed inside for nearly twenty minutes. Nine twenty to nine thirty-seven. Enough time for a fight if Angelina had confronted him about the e-mail the moment he had arrived. Tim could’ve taken him down then and there.

He watched until Kai emerged from the office again, eyes obviously wide even with the bad resolution of the camera. Stopping the tape, Tim took a closer look at the man’s appearance, having a software run over the picture, augmenting the resolution. He pulled up the moment before Kai entered the room on the second screen, comparing the man before and after the murder. He was still fidgeting, still suspicious, but Tim couldn’t be sure the dark stain on his sleeve was blood. It wasn’t impossible though. Blood on Kai’s sleeve. That was good. That along with the e-mail, the open hostility the two interns had shown each other. That was _good_.

“You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?”

“Because I might have made a breakthrough here, just now.” Tim craned his neck to watch Jason walk over. “Also, thanks for, you know, not shooting at the police officers?”

“If I wanted to, I would shoot them, not shoot _at_ them. Shoot them. Don’t make me sound like I’m incompetent.” Jason put an arm over Tim’s chair, looking at the screens he was working on.

“You are doing a good job of that yourself. -- Hey, um, thanks. Really. For getting B, okay?”

The faint glow from the computer screens tinted Jason’s face green. A few shades paler than he actually was, almost sickly, but somehow, he made it work. He always made it work, always looked good. And this close, Tim could smell him, cigarettes and gun oil and that strangely sweet smell of chai he preferred over coffee.

“Did he help?” Jason asked, finally looking at him. One year ago, they would have been able to tolerate each other from a distance. Now though, this closeness felt more natural. They had worked together out of necessity at first, but that had changed. They were a good team. Good for each other.

“I think I already fucked up by the time he arrived. I also think I made the detectives hate me.”

“You’re good at that,” Jason said, his eyes never leaving Tim’s. He wasn’t laughing or smiling, but his voice had that odd tone of fondness that came with having been there. Having hated Tim.

“So, you had a breakthrough?”

“Yeah,” Tim nodded. “I still got to put all the pieces together, but I think it's just busy work from here on.”

Jason looked him over, a small smile finally winning. “Need some help? Wanna talk about it?”

Tim shrugged. “Nah. Guess I'm gonna get some food and hang around for now. I'm pretty exhausted as it is.” He cringed at the memory of this morning. “Long day and all, you know.”

“Great, wanna hear a funny story then?” Jason asked, rolling the tension out of his shoulders. He didn’t wait for an answer, just moved to sit on the console, facing Tim with a grin on his face. “A few days ago, I was at one of the new clinics, just, y’know, checking up and stuff. Leslie and her gaggle were there, making some ultrasound examinations for free and it was pretty cool actually. You should come along next time.” He nudged Tim’s foot with his own. “Anyway, you know about white spots?”

Of course he did. Steph had laughed at him, but she had never worried enough, so Tim had read up on them. Tiny white spots in a baby’s heart that might be a marker for Down syndrome, Pateau syndrome or Trisomy 9, but mostly receded over time without causing any damage.

“So this guy goes complete bonkers, yelling and shoving his girl around,” Jason smiled. “Clue me getting to ask a few innocent questions.”

Tim couldn’t help the way the corners of his mouth kept twitching. “Leslie hates violence.”

“Oh, I wasn’t being violent.” And now Jason was full-out grinning. “I was being _argumentative_.”

Tim groaned in sympathy for whoever had had to suffer through _that_. Then he started laughing, because really. That was Jason, typical Jason.

“Hey, hey, stop giggling.” Jason pushed himself off the console, and crouched down in front of Tim. Still grinning, laying one hand on the armrest, the other touching Tim’s knee. “I’m not even at the fun part yet, little bird.”

Tim leaned forward in his chair, warmth radiating from where Jason touched him. “So what is the fun part?”

“The fun part is that this guy totally loses it. Cries ‘Are you daft? I don’t want no stinking retard’. And there’s this second girl, shy little thing compared to the other. She’s trying to tell him that it’s no big deal and says stuff like ‘We can still do it. We have the money. We can even abort it and try again.’ Of course, the oaf doesn’t listen.” Jason moved to sit on the floor more comfortably, his hand never leaving Tim’s knee. “He’s outright shouting now, crying about wanting an abortion and how that wasn’t planned. Like he couldn’t love a disabled child and the girl can’t expect him to pay for a child he doesn’t want.”

“That still doesn’t sound like fun, Jay.”

“I’m coming to that, don’t interrupt.”

Tim shook his head, enjoying the situation probably more than he should. But he had made a breakthrough, he had found Angelina’s murderer and right now, Jason was here. Sitting on the floor between his legs and touching his knee. As stupid as the story might get, this was. This was good. Really good.

“Anyway. So I’m going over there. You know me, casual as fuck and tame as a nun. And this guy really doesn’t stop, so I’m interrupting. Asking what’s up and the fucker starts to mansplain to each and everyone who doesn’t want to hear it that it's her fault. Her genes, and he’s so not getting a disabled child. That he won’t pay for it and that she has to get an abortion because he said so. And me, I don’t even know what's going on, I mean, I just came over there, but Leslie later told me they’d gotten an ultrasound and the child had white spots.”

“Which doesn’t mean anything at that point,” Tim added. White spots could indicate disabilities, but only in addition to other markers. In fact, it was highly controversial if they themselves could even be counted as markers.

“Hush now, story time.” Jason shook his knee lightly.

Tim crossed his arms over his legs, one hand settling close to Jason’s, just shy of touching. But he wanted to. He kind of wanted to reach out, put his hand over the one on his knee. Would that be too much? Blur the line they seemed always so close to crossing?

“So this girl - the pregnant one - taps his shoulder and he turns, still bellowing, and I swear to God, I heard his jaw break. Or dislocate, whatever, really. This girl socked him so bad! It was awesome.”

“And that’s it?”

“Yeah, happy ending all around. The other girl told me it’ll be all right and that the guy would come around and understand it wasn’t a big deal and they’d be a big, happy family again in a bit.” Jason shrugged. “Seemed like a pretty normal thing for them.”

A normal, happy family. That was nice. Tim looked down to where Jason was still holding onto him. What was normal anyway?

He wanted to reach out so bad, just stretch his fingers a little until he could feel Jason’s skin. “What about us?” he muttered. Wanting, _wanting so bad_ for this to be okay.

Jason pulled his hand back and Tim knew he’d fucked up. “What about us?” His voice wasn’t hurried, but almost blank.

“Nothing,” Tim replied, his cheeks burning and unable to look at his friend. He should have kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t this lucky.

Tim swivelled his chair to the side, standing up. “I’m suiting up. It’s almost time for patrol and I want to have a look at what my favourite detectives have done while I’ve done all their work.”

Smiling slightly, Jason covered his eyes with a hand. “You are a piece of work, you know that?”

“You give the best compliments, Jay, I swear.” Back to normal. Status quo. Pretty okay in Tim’s book.

 

Breaking into Detective Farley’s office would be harder than breaking into WE. Though pretty much anything was harder than breaking into your own company. This was necessary though. He might be able to pass the detectives his findings on Kai, but if he wanted this case to hold in front of a court, he needed to know what other evidence to debunk. Other than whatever evidence they thought they had against Tim Wayne. He wanted this case clean.

Briefly, Tim had entertained the idea of stealing Dick’s old police uniform and just walk into the station - not that he hadn’t fooled Gotham’s finest with that trick already - or just asking his brother to do it for him, but this was his case. This was personal and he was pretty sure both Farley and Kruger would be able to recognize him easily. Getting at the files from inside a building filled with cops was a stupid idea anyway; especially since roof access was still easy enough. Gordon probably wouldn’t have it any other way.

Scaling down the building Tim found himself in front of Farley’s window in no time at all. This whole break-in was one of the most basic B and E’s he had done in some time. Get in, have a look at the file, get out. He didn’t even plan to take anything with him other than a few scans.

Dropping into the room, Tim ducked into the shadows. As friendly as the GCPD was these days, precaution never hurt. The office was empty though, not much light coming from the hallway outside. Kruger and Farley had their desks pushed together, computers on both and a plastic pot plant next to them in one corner of the room. The other side was dominated by a big cabinet and a small table with a coffee machine and a box of day-old donuts.

Bruce had once told him that both, Dick and Jason, tended to steal donuts from the police in their respective tenure as Robin. He had also given then thirteen-year old Tim his own liberated doughnut at the same time. It was a thing. If a Robin was in the house, the police tended to lose donuts.

Wondering if Damian had broken the tradition or if a certain Batman had taken to stealing sweets again, Tim eyed the cabinet. Files were sorted alphabetically, and with the victim’s name known, the one he was looking for should be under ‘R’. The cabinet was locked, but those locks were flimsy at best. All in all, Tim estimated he had gotten his hands on the case file in no more than twenty minutes. Then another ten to fifteen to get out and be on his way to close this thing for good.

The file was in the usual, manila envelope, haphazardly scribbled information on its front. The first thing to see was a protocol of Marcie Giles’ interrogation, then his own. Tim turned and put the file on the desk. He pulled out his portable scanner, quickly going over both pages. He would read them later, the autopsy report being more interesting right now. He had never seen Angelina’s body, had never gotten the chance to examine it himself.

It read pretty much as expected; traces of a fight but with Angelina wearing her gloves, there was no DNA to be found under her nails. She had been stabbed with the pen, no knife or anything that screamed 'planned murder'. A crime of passion, desperation maybe. Angelia had died of blood loss. Had lain on her side, the blood pooling out of her until she had fallen unconscious. Other than that, she had been healthy. Healthy and carrying a child. About the twentieth week. No known father.

Tim swallowed against the cold lump in his throat. Angelina had been pregnant.

Why had no one known? What was the angle here? Not even an hour ago, Tim had thought he could wrap this case up, but now something seemed odd, out of place.

His hand lingered for a moment on the remaining papers, before fanning them out. Marcie. Marcie would know. Maybe it was time to ask the expectant mother some questions - Or maybe she would have to wait until tomorrow night. Maybe tonight, his visit at the station wasn't over just yet. The arrest warrant in the file read today's date, information on corporate espionage and the Mother's Project attached to it. Kai was in custody. Still would be in the building until he would be transferred to Blackgate.

Tonight, Red Robin had a great chance of talking to Angelina's murderer personally.

 

There he was. Kai Rasmussen. Something in Tim’s chest burned. He had trusted his man as much as he trusted any of his employees. He had believed this man was decent but this as Gotham and no matter how good you were in Gotham, in any other place on earth you’d be called at least somewhat _dirty_.

Tim slid to the ground, sneaking closer to the cell. Kai was laying on his cot, his hands folded on his stomach and staring at the ceiling while ignoring Detective Farley in front of the cell.

“C’mon, just say it. We both know you’re guilty as all living hell, so do yourself a favour,” Farley gnarled, his round jaw working along the words, working to keep the anger inside. The detective was trying his bad cop routine on Kai, but it had a lot less impact on him than it had on Tim Drake earlier. “You’ve admitted the spying, big guy, now man up and tell me why you done that girl? She didn’t like you? Rejected your hippie ass?”

“Maybe I can help,” Tim said, slipping out of the shadow. He gave himself a tiny smile, smug about the way Farley jerked back. Catching the man by surprise suited him just fine. Even if it was just petty revenge.

Kai on the other hand sat up, watching Red Robin almost unperturbed. “I was hoping for one of you to come, to be honest,” he said, stroking a thumb over his ridiculous pencil moustache.

Tim shifted his weight on one leg, watching the man for a moment, but not reacting to his words. Most interrogations worked this way. Just let them fill the silence, Bruce had said. Punching them might be faster, but was bound to have side effects they didn’t always want or intent. Most people hated silence though. They just felt the need to listen to _someone_ , and people like Kai, people who knew _something_ , they felt the need to talk even more. To explain themselves or gloat or whatever, really.

Farley had raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. “What’s going on here?” His hand went for his gun reactively, but he didn’t draw it, yet.

Slowly, Tim let his gaze settle on the detective. He could start with him then. “You believe Mr Rasmussen to be guilty?”

“He is.”

“Yet you’ve also accused Mrs Giles and Mr Wayne.”

The detective crossed his arms in front of his chest, grudgingly nodding. “Yeah. Yes, I did.”

Kai was watching them from his cell, still not spilling the beans, but okay. Tim could work with that.

“What changed?” He didn’t need to ask. He knew. Farley had gotten his hands on the security tapes. He has seen Kai get out of the office just like Tim had. He had seen the tapes and how they clearly incriminated Kai. And exonerated Tim Wayne as a bonus. Tim hadn’t been on those tapes at all. Not that late in the day. Marcie had been, but only in company - not like Kai. Not like the man who had last entered and left the office with no one but Angelina inside. Farley gritted his teeth.

“Think you’ve learned not to be hasty with your judgement?” Tim couldn’t help but gloat. He would let the detective be for now, he’d had his fun with him. Turning towards Kai, he nearly bit his tongue. Was he so different though? Maybe he was being too hasty, too?

“So yeah, where were we?” Kai said, tugging at his earlobe. He had liked the show. Liked the police being put in their place. “Like I said, I had hoped you’d show up. Tell the cops who really did her in. You’ve found them, right?”

Why was he so adamantly refusing to confess the murder when he didn’t even wait for his lawyer when talking about selling WE out?

“Why,” Tim murmured, more to himself, but Farley had heard him.

“Why what, Sherlock?”

“Why is he admitting to corporate espionage?”

Kai sighed. “Because I done wrong, okay. I done wrong, but I would’ve never hurt her.” He ran a hand through his sandy hair. It was still slicked back, but dishevelled and standing up in every direction by now. “She was a hardass. Liked the Wayne-kid too much, but they are good people. All of them. I didn’t kill her. Called the police when I’ve finished.” He tried to find Tim’s gaze behind the lenses, speaking confidently, and this was wrong. This was all so wrong and the pieces that had seemed to click so neatly in place were now looking like an entirely different picture.

“I didn’t do it,” Kai repeated. And Tim believed him.

“Yeah, right,” Farley snarled. He was getting agitated and Tim couldn’t blame him.

“Think about it, detective,” he said. “Why doesn’t he confess?”

“-- Because I didn’t do it!”

“No one believes that one anyway,” Tim waved a hand towards the cell, but now fully turned to Farley. “It would be smarter to just keep his mouth shut. - And you’re not convinced either. You’re a good cop, Farley, your gut tells you something is wrong. You’re grabbing every suspect you get you hands on, even Mrs Giles.”

“Look,” Kai pushed himself back into the conversation. “I said I talked to this girl from LexCorp, alright? That’s all. Angelina was dead when I came back and I panicked. I needed that e-mail done and gone and she was dead already, so I didn’t hurry to get an ambulance, right? I called the police afterwards, didn’t I?”

Tim blinked at that, glad his surprise wouldn’t show too much behind his cowl. “You did?”

Farley still smiled at him smugly, thinking he had finally found some ground to stand on against Red Robin. “Indeed.”

“There! Why would he do that if he’d murdered her?” Tim turned back to him, excitement bubbling up in his chest. Something was working, something in his mind was finally taking shape. “Then he would have called it in early in the morning! When he’d have a legitimate excuse to be there and had changed out of the clothes that would’ve been full of evidence! Did you find anything on his clothes?”

The detective refused to look him in the eye, clenching his fingers around his biceps.

“ _What the_ \-- You _didn’t_ check his clothes!”

“We didn’t think he’d be a suspect to be honest...”

Tim snarled. “Be glad Gordon doesn’t know about that, yet.” Then he turned to leave, one last glance at Kai, doubt settled in his mind. Angelina’s murderer was about to get away with it, having Kai here in this cell, accused and untrustworthy. Red Robin wouldn’t let that stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com/) if you have time <3
> 
> asdfghj also look at this [perfect picture](http://ceara-banana.tumblr.com/post/156884539698/allumetterouge-ceara-banana-hello-there#notes) [Ceara](http://ceara-banana.tumblr.com) drew for me <333


	4. Naked ninjas and fur collars

The first thing in the morning Tim consciously saw was an ass. A very nice ass, sticking out of his fridge, and he knew it was much too early for that.

“Sometimes I get the feeling you care more about my food than about me.”

“And you would be right,” Cass said, her head deep inside the fridge. Tim would have to restock after her visit. He resigned himself to needing coffee before accepting the fact that Cass was running around his apartment naked, _again_. Which meant she had been using all the hot water, _again_.

Coffee. Blessed coffee. Slouching against the counter, Tim watched the machine gurgle to life. He had tried one with a timer once, but the results had been pretty horrible. He’d ended up on the floor crying and Dick taking him to the zoo afterwards.

“Addict.” Cass closed the fridge with her hip, balancing a glass of orange juice and a plate of cold pizza in her hands.

“I blame Steph.” Getting a fresh cup seemed like a hassle, so Tim grabbed one from the sink, pouring its content out. “She’s responsible for most of my bad habits.”

“She thinks it’s debatable. Whether they are bad.”

“I know, right?”

“You love her.”

Tim shrugged, watching the dark liquid drop in the pot. “Everyone does. It’s hard not to.” Finally getting his coffee, he turned to lean against the counter, a freshly filled cup warming his hands. Cass sat on the table, staring at him. She rolled up a slice of pizza and shoved it in her mouth without breaking eye contact. After years of rigorous training, barely escaping certain death too many times, and rescuing the world once or twice, this was what his life had come to. Naked ninja girls sitting on his kitchen table and stuffing their mouths with dubiously edible pizza.

“Is that Jason’s hoodie?”

And morally questionable zombie boys that left so much of their stuff around you couldn’t distinguish between what belongs to whom anymore.

“Probably,” he answered, not taking the bait and getting his first sip of coffee. Their staring contest went on, neither of them giving in just yet. Tim was pretty sure he could win if she got out of pizza before he needed a refill. “You wanna snoop through Jason’s laptop? It’s around here somewhere.”

“Give me his music. I want Dance of the Vampires.”

Tim sat his cup on the counter, pulling the cord of the hoodie between his teeth instead. “Or you could just go and get it yourself.”

“I don’t know his password.”

“It’s ‘badmansucks’, written together and ‘Batman’ with a ‘d’. Seriously.”

Cass raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like Jason to a) be _that_ petty and b) botch up language like that. In fact, just the day before yesterday, Jason’s password had been a perfectly secure mix of numbers and letters - until Tim choose to exchange it for a ‘new and improved’ one.

Pushing the last two slices of pizza in her mouth at the same time, Cass hopped off the table. Of course she knew what he’d done, but she was also completely fine with that. Taking her juice with her, she vanished from the kitchen. Hopefully to put on some clothes before blaring musicals from Jason’s laptop.

Refilling his cup, Tim made his way to the living room, switching on the TV to get an update on what the other Bats had done tonight - and in how much trouble the rest of the world was by now. There were a few minor conflicts in the middle east, Superman getting another medal, the stock markets rising and a dog that could breakdance. In his experience the fluff piece was the most honest news. Then, changing to a local channel, he saw Kai Rasmussen on the screen. A recording of Farley taking him in, and for a bittersweet moment, Tim thought about their encounter last night. On the screen, the detectives acted like they had done their job; Vicki Vale standing in front of the camera again, narrating her newest scandal with a satisfied smile.

_“Mr Rasmussen is accused of murdering young Angelina Rhodes. Although details remain unclear, Mr Rasmussen seems to have been in contact with LexCorp. Reports say he was trying to sell an unlikely joint venture between Wayne Enterprises and LexCorp. We reported on this earlier this week, when Mr Luthor seemed enthusiastic about the project. Mr Rasmussen is said to be seen trying to convince each CEO of working together - he had been overlooked in the last promotions and was in dire need of the surplus money a regular employment would give him.”_

Tim tapped the remote against his palm. Had they really overlooked Kai? Had he been in such dire need of money? Kai had confessed the whole business to Red Robin and the cops, but not her murder. Why was he believing Kai? Was he jaded enough to believe a man would calmly send an e-mail next to a corpse before calling the police?

This was Gotham, though.

“Hey, Tim.” Cass threw herself on the couch, planting her feet in his lap. She was wearing one of his dress shirts and socks that were definitely Steph’s. “Your phone’s been ringing for the last twenty minutes.”

Apparently, she also wore underwear - or at least a bra from where she produced Tim’s cell. He didn’t want to wonder about that; the phone was still warm and if this hadn’t been Cass, he would have rolled his eyes at them. But this was Cass, so he only took the device and wiped the screen on his shorts.

“Looks like Tam wants to speak to me.” His friend threw him a glance before stealing the remote.

“This seems urgent,” he tried again, but Cass didn’t rise to the bait, only switching to the Powerpuff Girls. “Like, don’t _you_ wanna call her back? I mean it’s your fault I didn’t realize earlier, so you should definitely let her blow off some steam and nag at you first and stuff.”

The girl put the remote down and finally turned her attention to him. It was nice, the way she would do that. Smile amicably and pat Tim’s cheek a little. “Woman up, Drake.”

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

She shrugged. “You love Jason more.”

Tim jerked, his face heating up. He didn’t _love_ Jason more than Cass, it was just. Just. They made a good team, were working great together. And he’d really wanted to hold Jason’s hand.

The phone started blaring and for a second, Tim only stared at it before swiping over the screen and answering the call. He was tempted to thank Tam for the great timing, but she wouldn’t even let him get a word in.

_“Tim! Thank goodness, I almost thought you lost another vital organ - but then I remembered you’re just a stupidly attractive jerk. I don’t even want to know why you didn’t answer the phone, just tell me you’ve seen the news?”_

Next to him, Cass snickered and turned back to her cartoon. Tim would get back at her for that. Later. “You mean Kai’s arrest? Yeah, I kinda knew about that already.”

_“Dad was talking about him this morning after the police took him. Do you... Do you really think he’s capable of murder? I mean, what are murderers like? Do you get some kind of vibe when you’re close to one, what with your work and all that?”_

Tim pulled the cord of his hoodie between his teeth. It was still cold and wet from when he’d worked on it earlier. “No,” he answered her. If he had to liken the intern to any of Gotham’s more famous criminals, it would’ve been the Ventriloquist. Admitting his crime but not really seeing himself at fault. - But that was _after_. He had never thought of Kai as someone he would have to look at through Red Robin’s eyes. And that was the scary thing, really. After all those years he still couldn’t distinguish between innocent people and potential criminals. Because there just was no sign. A loving mother could murder her husband in his sleep, a kid could pull a gun on another in a stupid fight, a old man could disembowel the nice neighbour that helped him with the groceries. Not every murderer or criminal was green or white or anything colourful like those Batman regularly fought on TV. Most had just been normal people, living a normal life, _before_.

_“I think... Dad said Kai denies killing Angelina, but that makes no sense does it?”_ Tam asked. _“We knew he needed money and he admitted to trying to sell our data to LexCorp, so why doesn’t he admit to murdering her? He was the last one leaving the room. It’s on the tape! I’ve seen it, Tim! I’ve seen it with my own eyes. This doesn’t make sense.”_

He could see Tam shaking her head in his mind. No matter how often she got involved, she would never get used to this. And for that, Tim was glad. But she also couldn’t pull a good pokerface, even if it killed them, so that’s that.

“Did he tell Lucius anything? Like, did he describe what happened inside the office?”

_“I just think he wanted to get the promotion, to be honest.”_

He yanked the cord from his mouth. “Think, Tam, what did your Dad tell you?”

_“Just... Kai said he’d just wanted to clean up some mugs or something he’d left in the office and found the body.”_

“And then?”

_“Tim, I wasn’t there, okay?”_ she snapped. _“He was in there, with her body and still sent out an e-mail with some stuff on the Mother’s Project. Then he deleted all that before running out and calling the police.”_

“That’s what Kai said?”

_“That’s what he told Dad. Like he’d been desperate. Hadn’t known what to do and not wanting to get caught selling company secrets because of the unfortunate demise of a co-worker.”_

Cass gave Tim a sideways glance, jostling him a little with her feet. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d gotten, how something just kept nagging at his mind. Why was no one talking about the baby? Why was no one asking about the father or Angelina’s plans?

_“Anyway,”_ Tam huffed through the phone. _“Listen, I’m on my way to pick you up. Get yourself nice and presentable, we’re going to give Angelina’s family our condolences.”_

 

Tam’s purple Fiat pulled up the Giles’ porch not an hour later and Tim was already considering buying her new breaks. Or better yet, next time, he’d drive.

“Told you we could get here in under twenty minutes.” Tam locked the car with a smile that was reserved for Tim and Tim only.

“You also told me you could drive.” Why did all the girls in his life know how to take their revenge and get away with it? He could face and outwit century-old assassins, Triad bosses and sect leaders, but he didn’t stand a chance against Cass or Tam or Steph. Maybe he should be glad he hadn’t had that much time for the Titans in a while...

“So, do you want to ring the bell?”

Tim rolled his eyes. He didn’t _want_ to ring the bell, but then again, who would in their position? Still, they were here as WE representatives. Straightening out his suit, Tim steeled himself. It wasn’t a surprise to feel Red Robin tug on his consciousness. He had always tended to let Robin deal with things when Tim felt overwhelmed or out of place.

Putting the vigilante away for now, Tim pressed the button, Tam fidgeting behind him on the doorstep. Inside, they heard muffled noises and then the key was turned in the lock. The door opened to reveal the slouched form of Marcie Giles. Her eyes red rimmed but lighting up when she saw them, eagerly stepping out of the way. “Come on in, please, are you hungry? Tea?”

“Hello, Marcie. We’re here to offer our condolences and--”

“Oh, shush now,” Marcie interrupted. Her smile stayed, but grew the kind of sad that spoke of loss and familiarity. One that Tim had seen in the mirror often enough. He gave her a smile back and followed her invitation inside.

The living room was cozy, knitted cushions piled on the soft, pink couch and a crossword puzzle on the coffee table. The room and its lace curtains gave the feeling of a much older couple living in the house.

Marcie motioned for them to take a seat. “I’ll be back in a minute. Let me see if I can’t whip up some nice tea and cookies.”

Tam reluctantly sat down on the pink couch, her eyes darting around. She _really_ had to work on her pokerface.

“You look uncomfortable,” Tim teased, sitting down next to her and pulling the crossword puzzle over.

“Cats, Tim. Your suit costs more than I earn in a month! How can you not be worried about that?”

Cat hairs littered the whole room and Tim was reasonably sure he’d heard some purring under one of the cushions at his hip. So what, he liked cats. And Alfred would have a field day with him anyway next time he would bring his clothes to the manor.

The cat poked its head out of the cushions and Tim didn’t stop it from crawling into his lap. Tam still looked horrified when Marcie came back with a tray and an even bigger smile when she saw Tim stroking her cat. Tam really needed to work on her pokerface.

“So I see you’ve already met Bessie. I think she likes you, Mr Wayne.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual,” Tim replied, brushing his fingers through Bessie’s fur.

“Angelina loved her too,” Marcie said. She put down three steaming cups and a plate of off-brand cookies on the table. “She always worried about the child though. If they would get along.”

“Oh, look who’s visiting.” Tim turned in his seat to see Randy lean in the door. “We’re having guests!”

They had to squeeze on the couch a little, and if it hadn’t been for the Wayne image to uphold, Tim would have taken Bessie and sat on the floor. The cat had taken to lie across his shoulders by now, pretending to be a softly purring fur collar.

“We wanted to give you our condolences,” Tam said after everyone had settled down. “From us and Wayne Enterprises of course.”

“Of course,” Randy snapped.

“Randy, be nice,” Marcie chided absently. She watched Tim fondly, her attention still on the cat. “I’m sorry. We’re just. It isn’t a good time for us.” Which was obvious with one look at Marcie. She looked rattled. Her hair a mess and her usual expensive clothes wrinkled and worn. She didn't have the strength to take care or herself but still tried to act fine. Tim almost cringed. He knew that kind of fine personally. She wasn't fine at all, taking all the happiness she could in the boy who was nice to her cat.

“I’ve heard they’d suspected you for a while,” Randy challenged, his arms crossed and his accent more broader than ever. “Read the article in the paper this morning.”

The article Bruce hadn’t been able to buy. Damn.

He tried to laugh it off, ignoring Tam’s concerned glance. “Yeah, it was nothing, really. I think Miss Vale was grasping at straws. I haven’t actually read the article myself, to be honest.” Tim fixed his eyes on Randy. “I hope you understand that the case is solved and we should focus on respecting Angelina now.” He raised his hand, scratching Bessie’s head, never letting Randy out of his sight.

The man opened his mouth, but he was cut short by his wife. “It’s strange, you know? Bessie only did that with Angelina.” She pointed to where the cat was nudging Tim’s fingers, purring. Marcie smiled. “You’re pretty good with animals, aren’t you?”

And what should he say to that, really? _I talk to them a lot. We usually meet in dark alleys or on roof tops or when B thinks he needs to skedaddle with Selina?_ He opted for the saner - and also true - version, “My little brother has quite a few pets.”

“Do you have, like, a real brother?” Marcie smiled at him. “You know how it is, right? To have a family, but wanting one for your own, right?”

“I,” Tim started, but he had no idea what she was talking about. Randy tensed in is seat, averting his eyes. “Sure, I got -- I got Dick and Cass, and Damian, of course.”

Marcie folded her hands in her lap. “No, I mean, a real family. You had one, right? You knew your father and mother and you were a real family.”

“I don’t. They _are_ my real family,” he insisted. How could she understand -- No, how _couldn’t_ she understand? Mrs Rhodes was her mother. Angelina had been her sister. They’d always reminded Tim of his own family, the rag-tag vigilante group he loved and lived with. The people that had been a part of his life for seemingly ever.

“I would’ve had a real family. One of my own.” She put a hand on her belly, smiling sadly. “One of my own.”

Tim’s muscles tensed, his brain kicking into motion. “You’re not pregnant,” he whispered. How could he have been so blind? They had told him. Angelina was pregnant. No one said anything about Marcie.

“What’s going on?” Tam asked. She was shaking next to him, her face contorting into a grimace, not knowing how to feel, how to react. She was looking at him for help, asking for a clue.

Randy sprang up, laying an arm around his wife. “Of course she’s pregnant! I hope you know what you’re doing, Mr Wayne.”

Oh, he knew what he was doing, alright. Red Robin had wanted to ask Marcie Giles some questions anyway. He pulled Bessie down into his lap, making sure Marcie was watching him. “You knew Angelina was pregnant, right?”

“I don’t,” Marcie gulped. She rubbed her hand over her belly again, softly, fondly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Ignoring the way Randy’s hand began to clamp at his wife’s shoulder, Tim kept on. “Do you know the father?”

“Are you daft?” the husband screamed. “She said she doesn’t want to talk about it!”

“Tim,” Tam put a hand on his shoulder, her voice pleading with him to stop.

Marcie was looking at him. Sad, grieving. A hand on her belly. “Do you know the father?” She nodded. Just a tiny movement, Tim wouldn't have noticed hadn't he been expecting it.

Randy pushed himself off, getting close to grabbing Tim from his seat. “How dare you! How dare you come into my house and spout such bloody bullshit?”

Tim looked up at him. He was used to looking up to people. Tam kept tugging at his sleeve, muttering about how they should leave but Tim just kept stroking the cat in his lap. He asked Randy, “Do _you_ know the father?”

He never got an answer from the man, but he had Marcie’s nod. It might not be much, no prove or anything, but it was something to go on. And that something had been nagging at his brain all day.

“I can’t go anywhere with you, can I?” Tam sighed later. “Ninjas, cops, angry husbands. Do you know how close he was to bashing that vase over your head?”

Tim smiled, leaning his head against the window. “So you do care.”

She hit her hands against the wheel, not taking her eyes of the road. “Can you be serious for once? Not everyone can be a jaded ninja-fighter or whatever.”

Jaded? Him? No, Tim thought. He wasn’t. Was he? Rolling his head on the pane, he watched his friend drive. She was fuming, but more embarrassed than actually angry. “Am I?” he eventually asked.

Tam gave him a quick glance and bit her lip. “She lost her best friend, Tim. Her sister. They both did. You were being tactless,” she concluded. “Also, you could have told me!”

And that was plain old Tam being annoyed at him. Tim smiled. “I will, next time.”

Huffing, Tam put her Fiat into park in front of Tim’s place. “Good. I at least want a chance to tell you how stupid your plans are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to comment and/or criticize, or drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com/) if you have time <3


	5. It's a date

By now, Cass was gone and the place was suspiciously tidy. “Jason?” Tim called experimentally.

“How come I’m the only one cleaning this sty up, and I’m not even living here.” Jason stood in the kitchen doorway, drying his hands on a towel and wearing the hoodie Tim had changed out of earlier. He looked pissed, but then again, he always did when he had cleaned up after Tim and Cass. At home or on patrol, didn’t matter.

“You could.” Tim lay down on the couch, not caring much for his suit or the cat hairs. Again, Alfred was going to chide him anyway.

Angelina’s clock was sitting on his desk. The pink monstrosity he had taken from the crime scene. It was kind of cute in the right light, although it was useless now. “I’m so stupid.”

“Yes, you are. Now shut up,” Jason hissed back. He hung Tim’s coat on the rack were it belonged and kicked his bag under the table where it didn’t. He was _working_. But so was Tim.

Tim stood up, grabbing the clock. It had stopped at nine thirty-five. Turning the device over, he took out the alkaline battery. If the battery was dead, the gas inside it would make it bounce on the table, eventually toppling over, but if it kept standing, it was still charged.

He dropped the battery vertically on his desk and a solid thump told him his assumption had been correct. The battery was still charged.

The pink clock was a cheap thing; flinging it around the room in the fight had broken it. And now it kept showing the time it had stopped working. Nine thirty-five. Tim smiled. Kai had sent that e-mail at nine fifty-seven. The fight had taken place before that. Before Kai had even entered the office.

“What happened to my laptop?”

“Last time I saw it, Cass was catching up on West Side Story.”

“Cass was on -- Never mind. I don’t want to know.” He sat down on the table close to Tim, looking him over. “What’s wrong?”

Jason had beautiful eyes. That was what’s wrong.

Grunting in response, Tim rubbed his hands over his face. He didn’t need this right now. Why had Cass started that bullshit? Why had she felt the need to give it words? The thing that. That Jason and he had. Whatever it was. He didn’t love Jason more than Steph or Cass. He just. Loved him differently. There was nothing wrong with that, right? It’s not like he didn’t love Dick either.

Jason whipped him with the towel. “I’m talking to you, birdbrain.”

“I think I was wrong.” He couldn’t see his friend’s reaction with his hands blocking the sight, but he knew Jason long enough to interpret the silence. “The case I’m working on. I don’t think Kai killed her. He was selling our concept to LexCorp, but he didn’t kill her. He was telling the truth.”

Jason chuckled. “Yeah, and while we’re totally pretending I know what you’re talking about, why have you changed your mind?”

“Because Marcie isn’t pregnant and Randy is British and you’re my lucky charm.”

When Jason didn’t react, Tim peeked through his fingers. His friend was still watching him, wringing the towel in his hands and a faint red tinge on his cheeks. “Just don’t call me ‘bunny’.”

“Wanna go to Leslie’s with me?”

“That gonna be a thing with us? Me following you without knowing why?”

That was a yes. Jason was coming with him. He’d just cleaned up Tim’s place and had stolen his hoodie back. It had taken Tim days to even remember he had promised to look at Jason’s laptop and he had forgotten to go to the Manor for him. And Jason still didn’t leave. Didn’t want leave no matter what a stupid piece of work Tim was. His heart was starting to hurt a little. “At least you know where we’re going.”

Leslie was just about to go for dinner when the two of them knocked on her window. It was late, but she was accustomed to the Bats being late guests. “I don’t see any injuries.”

“Yeah, right. Only my ego,” Jason grumbled. Tim had filled him in on the way, hoping he wouldn’t take it personally. Jason had been there, had laughed at Angelina punching Randy in the face. He had believed Marcie, had believed everything would be fine. “Do you know someone called Angelina Rhodes?”

Leslie frowned, shifting her weight to lean against her desk. “You mean whether she was my patient. And you know I can’t tell you anything about her.”

“I only need you to listen,” Tim said. He hoped he was wrong, but he seldom was twice in one case. And neither was Jason. They had both been vigilantes long enough to trust their guts, long enough to share if something made them think, even if they didn’t realize it themselves. And while white spots weren’t unusual, parents’ reactions never the same, and Jason more than tolerant of whatever polygamous relationship he had assumed them to have - something had seemed off to him. And that’s that. That’s the closest thing they got to a ‘vibe’ as Tam had called it. And they always noticed it too late.

“Angelina was pregnant,” Tim explained, watching Leslie’s reactions. “She was coming to you to get an ultrasound examination. You found white spots.”

“Which only mean one should stay watchful and do a few more tests.” No matter his personal grievances, Tim had to admit she was a very intelligent woman. She had made them all believe Steph was dead. Took even Bruce’s hatred for that. She had wanted to help Angelina. Wanted to help them solve her murder now.

“But Randy didn’t get that.”

The doctor nodded. “Some parents take those news badly. They think white spots mean their child will be disabled. And some people aren’t strong enough to support a disabled child.”

Jason barked out a laugh. He had taken his place by the door, leaning next to it and listening for any uninvited guests. “Understatement of the year, doc. That guy was raving mad. Said he wouldn’t love the child. Not ‘couldn’t’. Wouldn’t. Stupid bastard.”

Leslie gave him a sad look. Jason was right and not matter how much she loved peace, this man, Randy Giles had said the exact same things to her after the diagnosis. She pulled out her keys, softly putting them down on her desk. She turned back to Tim, giving him a wary glance. “I won’t betray patient confidentiality. But I’m going to get some dinner now. Don’t look for anyone else, okay?”

The keys she had left opened the cupboard with her files, sorted tidily and alphabetically. Angelina Rhodes' file was big, bigger than Tim had expected. She hadn’t just been some patient, hadn’t just come to Leslie’s for the free ultrasound. “In vitro fertilization.”

Jason read over his shoulder. “So the bastard’s the father?”

“Yes, but,” Tim bit his thumb. He wanted to see if Leslie had a file on Marcie Giles too. He leant back against Jason’s shoulder, letting himself think for just a moment longer. Randy and Angelina hadn’t been in a relationship. He had seen the way those two looked at each other and he had always been reminded of Dick rather than Jason. Which. Was a bit of an annoying and awkward comparison, but it wasn’t wrong. Randy and Angelina had loved each other, but not romantically. Which would explain the in vitro fertilization.

He craned his neck to look at Jason. “You think she was a surrogate? It would work. The way you said Randy was talking about it. He was mentioning money and I’d kinda understand. If my sister would ask me to bear a child for her if she couldn’t, I would. I think.” Jason let his head fall on Tim’s shoulder, shaking and for a moment Tim was confused. Then Jason started laughing. “Oh, come on! You know what I mean.”

“If Cass and Steph ever want to get pregnant, I’ll let them know.” Jason wiped at his eyes. “Geez, kid. You wouldn’t even take money for it, would you?”

Tim rolled his eyes, raiding Leslie’s cupboard a second time. Marcie’s file wasn’t much thinner, the content just more depressing. He had been right. Marcie was infertile, couldn’t get pregnant. Couldn’t get a child -- couldn’t make a family of her own.

“Detective Farley needs to see those,” he said, slapping the files against his palm. The only reason he hadn’t seen this already was Leslie’s work ethics. And the giant ruse those three had built. They had made everyone at WE think it was Marcie. She had gotten her vacation, her baby year. All they’d had to worry about was anyone seeing Angelina during the pregnancy - but she was an intern and other than Tim, most directors had favoured Kai. She wouldn’t have been employed at WE for much longer.

Jason took the files from his hands. “Want me to deliver them for you?” He had that fond look on his face. The one that Jason had only gotten after working together for two months straight. The one that was completely contradictory to the image everyone had of the Red Hood. “You look like you want to pay the Giles’ another visit.”

 

Tim had watched the couple separate, Randy leaving Marcie in the living room. Only when the light went out in the Giles’ bedroom, and Tim could be reasonably sure Randy was falling asleep, he made his move. By now, Jason would have located Farley, if he wasn’t already talking to the man. This time, he wanted his answers before the police though.

Marcie and Randy were well off, their house surrounded by a nice garden instead of other houses. It reminded Tim a little of the place he had been born in, the one beside the Manor. It was easy getting inside a house like this. He had slipped in and out of one all his early years as Robin and it was a warm night. They had let a few windows open.

Pulling himself into the room, Tim took a quick look around. Marcie was lying on the pink couch, a hand on her belly and Bessie eyeing him from the backrest above her. The cat was watching carefully, deciding whether to flee. Marcie had become the kind of still that either meant nightmare - or detection. There was no time to do anything but move.

He crouched in front of the sleeping woman, trying for a reassuring, calming voice. “Please don’t scream, Mrs Giles.”

Marcie jerked, but didn't utter a word. Her eyes fixated on him, but her head didn't move.

"I'm sorry about your loss, Mrs Giles."

Marcie blinked. Her pupils were dilated, her body language unresponsive. Tim scanned the room. Other than Bessie, the two of them were alone, Randy probably sound asleep upstairs. Was Marcie okay? Other than the obvious grief and depression, was something wrong?

"He didn't have to do it," Marcie finally uttered, closing her eyes. "I should have stopped him, you know. But I wanted a family. A real family." She sat up, putting her feet firmly on the ground and folding her hands in her lap. Tim stood up to match the changed angle. "You're Red Robin. I've heard of you."

"Some have."

"Yet, you're here. So you know, right?"

Tim flexed his hands. It was critical to keep up with her, yet he didn't know how much Marcie knew. "Yes," he still said. "I looked over the security tapes. If you believe Kai Rasmussen, if he sent an e-mail and deleted all evidence he could think of... Then it had to be him. You left with Tam Fox earlier. Did you know this?"

"He'd always had a temper, but he'd never... We were always fine afterwards. He'd blow off some steam and then we'd talk. Always. Angie and I... We didn't expect it. I just wanted a family of my own, but Randy. He wanted a child even worse."

"And Angelina agreed to help you both."

Marcie nodded, her eyes downcast where Bessie was crawling into her lap. "We were all happy with that. Since I couldn't..." Her voice faded at the end. It still hurt.

Tim was listening to the sounds he knew a house like this would make at night. Filtering the groans of stretching and cooling wood, and trying to discern footsteps or any indicators of Randy moving upstairs.

"What changed?"

Bessie purred when Marcie stroke her fur, concentrating on the cat and cradling her close like a baby. "The child had those holes or something in their heart. It would become a retard. Randy couldn't stand this. Not in his family." Marcie shook violently, grabbing Bessie harshly to get her even closer. The cat screeched and scratched at her, both woman and cat jumping and screaming. Tim fell instinctively back into a defensive stance, biting his lip when the predictable footfalls hammered down the stairs.

"Marcie!" Randy yelled, a gun in his hand when he stormed into the room. Bessie ran through his legs and Randy cursed at her, until his eyes fell on Red Robin. “The fuck do you want?” He barked, quickly pointing his gun somewhere he thought he would hit Red Robin’s heart. His hands were shaking and he would definitely miss by quite a bit, though, obviously not knowing how to use a gun. Which just made him more dangerous. He could hit the wall, but he could also hit his wife by accident.

Red Robin held his hands up and flexed his muscles. If he had to move, it would have to be quick. “I’m just here to talk, Mr Giles.” Which wasn’t a lie, really. With Jason getting Farley to do the actual arrest and all.

“Get out! Get outta my house!” Randy waved the gun around. He was barking and shaking but his eyes were sharp. He knew what he was doing even if his body betrayed him.  
Marcie tiptoed to her husband, facing Red Robin all the time with nothing but fear in her eyes. Did she even consciously realize he was here? He started to doubt it.  
Randy grabbed his wife, putting her between Red Robin and himself. “Move, you freak!”

“Was that how you’ve seen the baby? A ‘freak’? Because it might have been disabled.” Randy’s eyes widened and he had to adjust the grip on his gun. He was sweating but his shaking ebbed out. Tim started to move. Shifting his weight first, deliberately telegraphing his movements before he took a step to the side. He circled the Giles' to get between Randy and the door. “Was that why you killed her?”

Marcie shrieked her husbands name in response, pushing against him in an attempt to get a look at his face. Randy kept staring at Red Robin though. Calming, focusing on him. Good. Now, if he could get Marcie away from her husband, that would be nice.

“How about you get dressed, Mr Giles? So we can talk about this like adults.”

“That filthy broad was giving me damaged goods,” Randy hissed through his teeth. He was grabbing at Marcie, pushing and pulling at her until she stopped moving. “Took my money and took my baby.”

“Randy,” Marcie said again. She was tearing up, her voice sounding almost clogged but finally awake.

He gave her a quick look, hugging her against him almost lovingly. “Don’t worry, my dear. We’re gonna be parents, we’re gonna have a real family, I promise.”

“But -- We had one,” she replied. This time, he let Marcie turn in his arms, let his wife put her hands on his shoulders. “You and me and Angelina. We were getting a child, a sweet babychild, only for us and from us. We’d been parents.”

Using the distraction, Tim stepped closer to them quickly. Randy still had the gun, but it was no longer pointed at him. In fact, it almost seemed forgotten, Randy’s movements not minding the weapon. He shook Marcie, grabbing her neck with his free hand. “She wouldn’t have given us a child, Marcie, darling. She was going to take the money and leave us with that baggage of hers. Some damaged thing, no child we could’ve loved and raised.”

Hiccuping, Marcie pushed out the next words. “She wouldn’t have done that!”

“She wasn’t even considering abortion!” Randy almost screamed. He was shaking her again. Harder this time. “She was gonna give birth to that - that _thing_.”

“Was that why you killed her?”

The man jerked his arm between them, pushing Marcie away in the same movement, and pointing the gun at her. Years of training had made Tim anticipate that move, had made him faster. He surged forward, stepping into the tight space between them, pushing Randy’s hand up, just when he pulled the trigger. The man was seething, holding his hand close to his chest.

“But -- But Kai!” Marcie whined.

“That stupid idiot,” Randy laughed. “Probably thought he was doing the right thing - Calling the police. He just didn’t want anyone to notice whatever the fuck he was doing! And wasn’t that just perfect? No one knew -- And no one _will_ know!” With that, Randy threw himself on Red Robin, hands going straight for his throat. It was an untrained move, adrenaline and desperation making it possible. Tim easily deflected the attack, turning them around to pin Randy to the floor.

The man kept struggling when he leaned down to whisper in Randy's ear. “Tomorrow, everyone will know. I will personally talk with Vicki Vale, if that’s what you want.”

“Bollocks!” Randy bucked, but couldn’t get free.

Marcie sat down heavily on the floor, leaning against the couch. Tears streamed down her face, her whole body shaking with sobs. She turned a little, reaching out with an unsteady hand towards her husband. “What happened,” she asked, her voice small and frightened.

Randy kept cursing, kept fighting Tim, so he pushed his arm higher against his back, his whole weight pinning the man in place. “You heard your wife, Mr Giles. Tell her.”

“Your _sister_ got what she deserved,” Randy spat out. “Goddamn, get off me, you freak!”

“Tell her.”

“We were fighting, she didn't want the abortion. Would saddle me with a retard. I put that pen in her throat, end of story.” His gaze fell on his wife and Randy’s struggle let up. “I was doing this for us, sweetheart! I had to! She was going to burden us with that thing, she wouldn’t give us our baby!”

“She was my sister, Randy. _My_ sister.”

Tim zip-tied the man in place before getting off him and stepping back to kick the gun farther in a corner. He had heard the noises, heard the cars arrive before the front door was blown open, Detective Farley bellowing orders.

Tim turned to Randy, his voice gravelly and earnest. “You confess or I’ll be back. I promise I will hurt you more next time.”

 

“I kinda like how WE came out of this.” Tam stroked a finger over the title page.

“Miss Vale is a good reporter.” And Bruce had come through somehow. Tim really didn’t want to think of the circumstances but the article painted both Wayne Enterprises and Tim himself in a good light - even advertised their Mother’s Project and the new maternity clinics a little. “So we’re being in the clear?”

Lucius nodded, still looking the article over. “So it seems.”

Tam looked at him from the place on her father’s desk, smiling. “You actually listened to me. I told you I didn’t believe Kai was the murderer and you did your ninja-thing, right?”

That wasn’t exactly what had happened, but for her sake, Tim just shrugged. “Can you stop calling it my ‘ninja-thing’ now?”

A knock made all three of them look up, Lucius’ secretary pushing her head into the door. “Mr Fox, do you happen to -- Oh, there you are,” she smiled. “Mr Wayne, you have a visitor.” Her eyes darted back outside, hinting at the visitor standing already right behind her.

Lucius and Tim exchanged a quick glance before nodding to her. “Let them in,” Lucius said.

The woman opened the door farther, making room for Jason. Jason who stepped inside the luxurious office in his old jacket and the same dirty boots he had worn for patrol and still looked completely comfortable. Tim heard Tam’s tiny gasp, saw the bright red blush on her cheeks and, yeah, he got that. Jason had that effect on pretty much everyone.

“What can we do for you, Sir?” Lucius looked at him like he was struggling with his memory. He had known Jason as a child, but they hadn’t seen each other since then. Jason didn’t come to Wayne Enterprises. Jason Todd was dead. A non-entity. And here he stood, grinning like the big idiot he was and filling the office with the smell of the dirty streets outside and chai.

“I’m just here to pick Tim up for lunch. The boss said you did a great job and we should celebrate.”

Tim didn’t try to hide the way Jason’s words warmed his cheeks. His whole body feeling warm and light and he believed it. This job was done. And he had done good. “Did he now.”

Tam perked up and pointed at Jason. “You’re another ninja!” Then she turned to Tim. “Please tell me he’s one of the good ones, you won’t start fighting in a minute and I won’t have to talk to Gregory to get the security tapes to hide the evidence.”

Lucius chuckled behind them, one hand in front of his mouth, his eyes not hiding a wary kind of recognition. “Mr Todd, I assume? I’ve been told you have free reign of the premises as long as you behave yourself.”

Jason blinked, the colour draining a little from his face. He still wasn’t able to completely accept any form of kindness from Bruce. Was still struggling with the whole thing. But not today. Tim stepped away from the desk, putting a hand on Jason’s arm. “Come on, I was promised lunch.” He smiled, steering them outside the office and ignoring Tam’s wide-eyes glance. He’d have to explain a lot later.

“So, lunch,” he said as he pressed the button in the elevator. Jason had his hands pushed in his pockets, watching the numbers count down with each floor. When they had only five more to go, he fixed Tim out of the corner of his eye, his mouth tugging into that fond smile he wore around him a lot. The one that made Tim grin in return, made him bite his lip when Jason finally entangled their hands.

“I couldn’t have asked you on a date in front of them, could I?”

“A date, huh? What have you planned?”

Jason shrugged slightly, staring at the elevator doors with a obvious blush. “Dinner and a movie I guess? - Hey,” He squeezed Tim’s hand when the door opened. “Is this okay?”

Suppressing a laugh, Tim pulled him into the lobby. “Sure, there’s no press conference or anything today, is there? So, I’m getting food and a hilariously shitty B-movie?”

Jason fell in step beside him. He grinned a little helpless but kept his fingers firm around Tim’s. “You wish.”

And yeah, Tim kinda did. Closing this case had been great, had made so much sense but had also confirmed that no matter what, Tim would never be able to get back to something like a normal life. Not really. He just couldn’t turn his back on a crime such as this, even if it wasn’t personal. Angelina had been a good person, and Tim had promised his Dad, had promised _himself_ to protect those. This was what he wanted, what he was good at. And with Jason... It all seemed a little more -- not normal exactly, but normal was overrated anyway.

Tim laughed, pushing the doors open for them. “So,” he said, watching Jason pull something from his jacket. “What’s the stitch? No dinner and movies, right?”

“I got take-out in the car and our suits in the trunk.” Jason’s eyes fixed on him, something hopeful in them. “Got a case in Europe and B said I could have you when you’re done here.”

Humming in return, Tim kept an eye out for the car Jason was talking about. Not that he would admit it readily, but that could definitely make or break his decision. He wouldn’t even go to the airport in another purple Fiat. “Did he now. And I got no say in this?”

Jason pressed the key in his hand, making the light of a beautiful dark sports car light up. One that had to be a prototype because Tim didn’t know the model and if Jason was trying to be romantic, bribing Bruce into getting them a joyride with that lady was definitely working.

“Hey, it’s Paris,” Jason said, shaking his head when Tim only had eyes for the car.

“You’re hopeless, Jay. Bad things happen when I go to Paris, don’t you know?”

“I’ve heard there’s a Spanish guy now, with fire-hands?”

Tim perked up. “Yeah, met him. Been there, done that.”

“You -- What? Why am I even surprised.” The look on Jason’s face was a weird mixture between impressed and confused and he still was making it work. Also, he was still holding Tim’s hand even if his fingers were shaking a little. Maybe he needed some kind of answer. Maybe this felt like so much more to him too. Bragging and swaggering and all that to hide the little boy Tim still knew was there. The one he had been following many nights when they were kids.

“Told you, Paris and I, we have history. I might even show you that fancy restaurant I want Bruce to buy, so I do hope when you said ‘suit’ you meant the one you look like a penguin in.” He let go only to hold his palm up for the keys. “Also, I’m driving.”

Jason laughed, hiding his eyes behind his hand but not the broad smile. “You’re a piece of work, replacement.”

Tim opened the door for Jason when he had dropped the keys in Tim’s hand. “You wouldn’t want it any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it, I've done it. First crime-ish story out there and it was fun. Thank you all for reading and thanks to [midnightandmoon](http://http://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightandmoon/profile) for commenting and keeping up with me and my story!  
> As always, feel free to comment and/or criticize, or drop me a line on [tumblr](http://allumetterouge.tumblr.com/) if you have time <3


End file.
